


In the Woods Somewhere

by Peaches_and_Lilies



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, F/M, Fictional village, I blame tumblr for this, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, Werewolf Drew McIntyre, a sort of fairytale world i guess, i just used the wrestlers as my characters, this is practically an original story at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26710606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peaches_and_Lilies/pseuds/Peaches_and_Lilies
Summary: Because as the world always has been towards what they were ignorant of: If it was different, then it must be a monster.
Relationships: Drew McIntyre/Original Female Character(s), Drew McIntyre/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. Once Upon Another Time

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: commando-claymore

_ Once upon another time, there was a boy. He was born to a loving family, and together they lived in a small village. They were happy and all was right in the world. _

_ But as all things must come to an end, so too did their happy little world. _

_ Every full moon, the village held a feast to honor the spirits that their ancestors claimed kept their village and its people safe from harm. They would dance in the village square, well into the night and wait for the moon to hit is apex. _

_ It was on one particular night like this, when the boy was in his 13 _ _ th _ _ year, that his whole world crashed down upon him. For the spirits decided to gift its village with a guardian, and they chose this kind boy. _

_ The villagers were none the wiser to the events that led up to the change. But that night, when the moon hit its apex, the boy started to change in front of all of them. He changed into something none of them had seen before and it scared them beyond belief. _

_ Because as the world always has been towards what they were ignorant of: If it was different, then it must be a monster. _

_ They never stopped to think that perhaps it was a gift to them. They never stopped to think that the one they called monster was a mere child. Their terror blinded them and in turn  _ _ it _ _ changed to anger. _

_ They drove him off with torches, knives, and clubs. This little boy, who knew nothing of what was happening, ran off into the night and into the woods. Never to be seen by him or his family again. _

_ As time passed, the tale of the boy who turned into a monster became a myth amongst the villagers. It was used to scare the little children off of wandering the woods at night. It was a tale that was told to keep  _ _ travelers _ _ and tourists interested. _

_ But none of them knew that the myth very much was true. That there in the deepest parts of the forest lived the guardian, the unwanted champion of the village. _

_ The boy had grown into a man, watching over the village as he was chosen to do. He grew up, hating himself and the spirits that had gifted him with this purpose because it was more a curse than anything. Because the boy had lost everything in one fell swoop. The boy turned into a man who lived a lonely life, with only one duty that he was forever chained to. _

_ He was the Chosen One. _

_ But he never asked to be. _


	2. When I Awoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr for updates: commando-claymore

_Grandpa always told me that everything had its time, and everything ends._

Yet, as Isla stood there watching as his coffin was being lowered into his final resting place, she had hoped he would be the one exception. 

It hadn’t stopped raining since the day she arrived at Bramley. The village was ever the same since she had left it when she went to attend university in the city, and yet it was different at the same time. 

Fergus Calum had been one of the gatekeepers of the village of Bramley for well over 60 years. He had been since he was 18. Then about a week ago he had died in his sleep. 

“He didn’t suffer.”The coroner had told her. “Most don’t live to 79 like he did. A peaceful death is a good one.” 

_But he was alone,_ Isla thought despondently, her grip around the umbrella tightening so hard her knuckles turned white. _He shouldn’t have been alone. I should have been with him._

For Isla, Grandpa Fergus had been the one constant in her life. For a long time, he was the only family she had. Her father was an unknown, her mother died in childbirth, and her grandmother had been taken away by cancer when she was barely old enough to remember. 

Her grandfather had been the one to raise her up and provide for her, all on his own. All while he grieved over the loss of his daughter and his wife. He had been kind, he had been patient, and he had loved her more than anyone else in the world did. 

_And you left him,_ Isla’s thoughts hissed at her. _You left him alone and now he’s gone. He’s dead and he’s never coming back and you never got to say goodbye. You’re all alone now. Well and truly alone._

Tears blurred her vision, the grief and the guilt catching up on her. Sobs wracked through her body, and she fell to her knees in front of her Grandfather’s grave, her umbrella discarded to the side. She didn’t care that her pants would get muddy. She didn’t care that by the time her tears stopped, she would be soaked to the bone. She didn’t care if she got sick. Her family was gone and her heart was empty, she had _nothing_ else to care for. 

By this time, the funeral attendees had already offered their condolences to the lone Calum, and had all but scattered. Some would have gone to their homes because dinner time was almost upon them. Some would have gone to the pub, perhaps the other gatekeepers, drinking to Fergus’ memory. 

And Isla would be there, sitting amongst cold statues and tombstones, crying and mourning the remnants of her family all on her own. 

* * *

The sounds of her sorrow should have been drowned out by the rain, yet it seemed to drift through the cemetery and reach the woods that overlooked the village. 

There by the edge of the woods, hidden in the shadows of the trees, stood a looming figure who listened to the young woman lament her loss. 

He had watched the whole ceremony from afar, careful not to be seen. He didn’t know what had possessed him to even come but Fergus had been a good man— he had been somewhat of a _friend_. He had very few in the way of friends, and even lesser— those of the human kind. So out of respect he had decided to at least watch as the old gatekeeper was laid in his final resting place. 

He hadn’t planned on sticking around, yet hearing Fergus’ grandchild weep over the late man’s grave had compelled him to stay, even just for a while. To make sure nothing disturbed her, so she could cry in peace. 

It was the least he could do. 

But he hoped she would be gone by the time night fell. There were many things that lingered in the cemetery when darkness came, and many things crept out of the woods when the sun fell. 

She would have to leave by then. 

* * *

For someone whose job was to guard the village gates, Fergus’ home was quite far from it. 

The Calum’s quaint cabin was situated near the village borders, neighboring the trail that went into the woods of Bramley. Many a hiker would pass by, and the Calums were no strangers to travelers knocking at their door to ask about the hiking trail. 

To Isla, this cabin was home. She had lived here most of her life, she had grown up here, this cabin had a memory in each corner. But now that Grandpa Fergus was gone, each plank of wood, each window pane seemed to send a piercing shard of ice into her heart. 

Even when it was just the two of them, the cabin had always felt so warm and full. Now it felt empty, a shell of what it once was. The same as how she felt in the moment. 

“A house doesn’t make a home Isla,”Grandpa once told her, “it’s the people.” 

She never really understood what he had meant until now. 

Isla sat on her Grandpa’s armchair, a big club chair that as a kid she felt would swallow her up. She sat there wrapped in a large quilt, a large mug of raspberry tea in hand, gazing into the fireplace watching the flickering flames and the smoldering logs with an absent mind. 

She had taken a few weeks off from work to tend to the funeral and all the legal affairs that came after. But now she didn’t want to leave town. She didn’t want to leave the cabin. 

She didn’t want to leave the last vestiges of her Grandpa’s memory. 

Her hands trembled around her mug, eyes growing hazy as she tried to blink back the onslaught of tears. It felt like she hadn’t stopped crying since the cemetery. 

As Isla tried and failed to will the tears away, a knock sounded on the door. 

Isla turned her head to the direction of the small foyer, wondering who would be knocking at the dead of night while the rain was heavy and the roads could barely be seen. 

Perhaps it was one of the older gatekeepers coming to check up on her? They used to do that when she was younger and Fergus had the night shift. 

With a heavy sigh, Isla stood up, letting the quilt pool on the floor as she made her way to the front door to greet the visitor. 

Except when she opened it, no one was there. 

She blinked a couple of times before scrunching her nose in thought. She was sure someone had knocked on her door. 

_You’re tired_ , she reasoned to herself, _it’s_ _your mind playing tricks with you._

But as she was about to step out onto the front porch to double check, her bare feet brushed against something that made her jump. She stared down at the item for a moment before leaning down and picking it up. 

It was a small bundle of white and red wild poppies, tied together with a piece of twine. 

It held no tag, no indication as to who it was from. But they were there. 

Isla held them gently in her hand, gazing around the cabin’s surroundings for any sign of who had left it there. But there was none. Whoever had left the flowers had taken their leave quickly. 

Isla stared at the flowers in her hand, letting her fingers caress the soft petals for a moment. 

“Red poppies are for consolation Isla,”Grandpa told her when they went to visit Grandma and Mama, “and white poppies are for remembrance and peaceful rest.” 

_I console you in his death,_ the small bundle of flowers seemed to tell her more than any words the funeral goers could have said. _May he rest in peace, we will remember him._

Isla felt some of the weight in her heart alleviate, the little gesture from an unknown, giving her a sense of comfort. It brought a small smile upon her lips. 

She went back inside, flowers in hand; it was late and she needed sleep. 

* * *

All the while, in the shadows of the woods, he watched as all this happened. When the young woman had smiled, he felt something in him grow, something warm. 

He placed a hand over his chest, confused as to what that growth was. 

He stood there for a while, long after she had already gone in and the lights in the cabin had been doused, pondering the feeling before he shook himself out of his stupor. 

He had duties he must attend to. There was nothing left here for him to do. 

He turned his back to the cabin, striding into the woods, the night covering his presence and the rain washing away any traces he could have left behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are welcome and could help the author!


	3. The Moon Still Hung

_“ **Run** ,” Said the mother to her son. “Run as fast as you can. Don’t look back no matter what you hear. You run fast and you run far, do you hear me?” _

_The boy could only whimper in response, for in his form he could speak no words._

_The light of the fire grew closer, the marching of a hundred feet rumbled through the earth. They were almost upon them._

_“Go now my son.” The mother said, her eyes were tearful and red. “Run and I will protect you.”_

_Because that’s what mothers did. Even if their children were monsters, they would go to the ends of the earth if it meant keeping them safe._

_With one last long look at her, he turned and fled. The image of his mother, standing there with the glow of a hundred torches coming up behind her was one that would be burned in his mind forever. One that would haunt him even in his dreams._

_The boy ran and ran. He ran until his lungs ached and his limbs protested._

_He ran for fear, he ran for anger, he ran for his life._

_When he finally came to a stop, it was at a small lake, the moon’s reflection illuminated upon its crystalline surface._

_When he gazed into the water, his heart was gripped in confusion and terror._

_What had he become? What had the spirits turned him into? What curse was this?_

_He had thought, he could go back— that this was all some terrible dream. But he truly was a monster now._

_And monsters had no place in the world of men._

_The boy turned his head to look up at the moon, anger growing in him at the way it seemed to looked upon him in pride. The moon had caused this—the spirits it governed_ _over;_ _they had turned him into this detestable creature._

_He felt a growl rise up in him. He wanted to cry for the injustice, for the fear, for the anger he felt. Yet in this form, tears would not come._

_Instead he released a howl. A howl so long, so sorrowful, and so loud it echoed through the woods and into the_ _night._

_“Why?” He thought hopelessly, continuing to howl and whimper his hurt. “Why have you_ **_cursed_ ** _me?”_

_The spirits took pity upon the boy. They had not wanted for him to suffer. They had wanted him to be celebrated._

_The village needed a champion. A guardian to protect them should the spirits ever fail in their endeavor. They could not take back their actions now._

_They decided to make it up to their chosen one in the only way they possibly could. By protecting the_ _ones_ _he held dear._

_The villagers surrounded the mother, threatening her with knives and pitchforks, telling her to get out of the way. “We must slay the beast!” They shouted. “We must kill it before he kills us!”_

_“He is no beast!” The mother screamed, her arms raised to her sides, shielding the way into the woods. “He is my son!”_

_“Then you too shall perish with him!”_

_In that moment everything stopped. The villagers froze, much to the mother’s bewilderment._

_Then, as though some sort of magical force enraptured them, they turned around and walked away from the woods and back to their homes._

_The mother still stood there, confused as to what was happening. She turned around to peer at the dark canopy of trees, shedding tears for she knew that howl was her son’s._

_She could not go after him now. He would be much safer in the woods._

_She knew not what had truly happened or what had caused this, but she knew her son was still her son, no matter what form he took. But he could never come back so as long as one villager remembered this night._

_“Run my child.” She whispered into the stillness. “Run and_ **_live_ ** _.”_

_The creature that was birthed in the events of that fateful night would forever be etched in the minds of the witnesses. The fear would linger and the story would spread. By the next morn, all would know of the boy turned monster, cursed by the spirits and brought about by the full moon._

_The boy who ran, and the monster that lived._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Watch out for the next chapters. Please leave a comment or a kudos that would be great!


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